The Best Man
by insertcleverandwittytitlehere
Summary: It was almost an unspoken truth that Fred would be George's best man when he got married. Then Fred died.


**A/N:** This is the Chudley Cannons Captain checking in for Season 7 Round 2 of the QLFC.

**Prompt:** Write about a Gryffindor and Slytherin friendship.

**Word count (before A/N):** 3,085 words (Gah, I know! It's over the word limit, but this was much longer and I was done cutting.)

**I am not JK Rowling. These are her characters. I merely play puppet master once in a while.**

* * *

"I'm in love."

The dormitory door closed behind Fred with such a finality, it made his declaration sound almost laughable, like he staged the whole thing. But before George could crack a smile, he saw a rare seriousness on his twin's face.

George sat up, his bed creaking as he swung his legs over the side. Fred was across the room, his entire back pressed against the door, his face flushed. George watched Fred's chest rise and fall with each breath, could almost feel his heart pounding from across the room.

"Okay," was all he could muster.

"I'm serious, Georgie." Fred strode over to sit beside him, their shoulders and knees now touching flush against each other. It made George's stomach flop. He shared everything with Fred from day one. They faced the world together, laughed together, played together. They were months away from creating their very own business together, for Merlin's sake!

But now, sitting in the quiet of their seventh-year dorm, George could feel an electricity running through Fred that he just couldn't share in.

George didn't even know Fred was seeing someone.

"Who is she?" he finally asked, unable to meet Fred's eyes.

"She's…" Fred was watching him closely now. He could feel it. "She's a fifth year. Daphne. She's…"

George's brows knit. "Greengrass?"

Fred nodded.

"A Slytherin?" George asked. And he heard the contempt in his voice as he said it. Could feel the way it hurt Fred as it slipped out of his mouth. He could have apologized right away. Could have said something, but his mind was reeling. A Slytherin? Those prats who flocked to Umbridge like Cornish pixies did to mischief?

It had to be a joke. There was no other explanation.

"Just meet her. Please."

George swallowed hard. "Uh, yeah. Okay."

* * *

Daphne Greengrass was… well, not absolutely unpleasant.

She wasn't a walk in the park, either.

George could see the attraction—Daphne was tall and slender with long brown hair and a sharp chin. She also had deep green eyes that reminded George of the Forbidden Forest during sunrise. At a glance, she was quite beautiful.

But she was oddly closed off, unable or unwilling to crack a smile at any jokes. Her mouth was stuck in a perpetual frown, even when Fred slid his hand into hers while they had talked. And though she kept her head high, her eyes were everywhere else but on Fred or George, as if she were waiting to be caught in the middle of doing something she shouldn't have been. Like she was ashamed.

Afterward, he lied. Fred looked so earnest, so vulnerable; George didn't have the heart to tell him his new girlfriend was a pretentious bore.

"I like her," George had said. And Fred's whole face lit up like Mum's did when they played Celestina Warbeck at Christmas.

* * *

The little bell over their shop door jingled just as George was placing the last of the Puking Pastilles on the front shelf. It had taken weeks to get everything just so, but Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was days away from opening.

"Not open yet, mate" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Um, I'm not here to shop," the potential customer said. George stiffened. "Not yet, anyways."

He turned. Daphne was standing in the middle of the entrance, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, which really only made her already-pointy face look even more elf-like.

"Right," said George.

Daphne smiled, or, well, faked one it seemed. Unable to reciprocate, George turned back around, mumbling over his shoulder as he did. "Didn't know you'd be here today."

"Wasn't exactly planned," she said curtly. "But, seeing that I'm here and I'm dating your brother, could you fetch him?"

She was lucky, George decided, that he wasn't facing her anymore. Because the rage he felt manifested itself into a foul grimace on his face. How dare she order him around in his own shop? Who did she think she was? Dating Fred or not, she wasn't even supposed to be there.

"_Sure_," he said through gritted teeth, "but you'll have to wait outside. We're not open yet."

He didn't have to turn around to know she was frowning, her pointy chin jutting out. She probably rolled her eyes before storming out the door, the bell jingling again.

"Really, mate?"

George stiffened again, but this time he only felt shame. Fred was standing at the edge of the storeroom, looking utterly betrayed.

As he walked toward George he said, "Next time, why don't you just slap her across the face?" And he, too, was out the door.

* * *

"I'm… sorry."

Daphne sat across from George at the Leaky Cauldron. Three days had passed since their encounter at the shop. Three days since Fred last said anything to him as well. And George felt like Shite. With a capital 'S.'

"I am," he said. But Daphne would not answer. She sat there, staring back at him with her too-green eyes and her razor-sharp chin.

"I shouldn't have been so, I dunno, cold when you stopped in," George sighed. "I don't know what you want with my brother. I don't really get it, or how it all happened. I don't know-"

"That's right. You don't know."

Her eyes were dazzling emeralds, unblinking. He thought she would hex him. But then her head dropped and she busied herself, sipping at her butterbeer. Even that small action was done prettily, George thought, and he almost scowled at her for it. But then her eyes landed on his again, turning his whole body to jelly.

"You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. You've realized one trait and you're letting it define who I am without ever getting to know more."

She slid out of the booth.

"And I pity you for it," she continued, her eyes dancing. "Because, Almighty-Gryffindor, that bravado your house cherishes so much has failed you. You're not being noble; you're being pigheaded. And for once, this slimy Slytherin is a bigger person than you."

She turned on her heel and stormed out.

George, though still shaken, grinned. Wickedly. Something clicked into place about Daphne Greengrass.

"I knew you'd like her," Fred finally said, peering over the top of the booth opposite George. "You prat."

"Yeah, well," George said, "now we just have to get her to like me."

"I'm sure your charm will shine through… eventually."

"We all know I taught _you_ everything you know."

"Unlikely," Fred slid into Daphne's old seat, grinning back.

"You really love her?"

As Fred's shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened, George knew the answer. So rare these days were moments of joy. You-Know-Who was unquestionably back. Their family was in grave danger. Percy was MIA. Ron was hiding away from the family, his Harry-secrets always taking precedent. Mum was beside herself, carrying that damned clock around.

"I'm going to try, Freddie," George said. "For you and for Daphne."

* * *

"Oi, you lot," George called from the kitchenette. "Go out and do something. Nightclubs, dancing, drinking. Bloody anything but this!"

"You're one to talk," Daphne called back. She was seated with Fred on the couch in the two-bedroom flat George shared with his twin above the shop. It had become a good home over the last nine months. Daphne was on Easter holiday, and instead of enjoying their youth, she and Fred had decided on take-out so they could eat-in.

At least they ordered George dumplings.

He walked into the living room with his plate and stood opposite the doting couple. Daphne was pulled tight against Fred's side, his one arm draped over her as she effortlessly used her chopsticks to eat rice.

"Honestly, I've never met a younger couple who preferred the life of a ninety-year-old shut-in."

"You never go out," Daphne smirked.

"I _always _go out. My weekends are filled with social starlighting. I've never faced a dull moment in all my eighteen years."

"Now that I believe," Daphne said. "But not because of your, what was that? Social starlighting?"

"You know what I mean," George laughed.

"Riiiight."

It took its time, but things were finally running smoothly within their little group. Of course, George was not privy to all the goings-on of the other two when he wasn't around, (and he definitely preferred it that way), but when Daphne visited, it was almost pleasant. He'd grown accustomed to her presence, though he wasn't going to put her at the top of his Christmas card list anytime soon.

"So, any plans for tomorrow?" George asked.

Daphne looked to Fred, who simply shrugged in response. He had been oddly quiet all night, George thought, but then again, they had a busy day at work with all the Hogwarts kids on break. George felt exhausted himself.

"Well, as nice as this chat has been—and truly it's been titillating—I'm going to eat in my room and let you two geriatrics swap joint-pain potions."

"Hah hah," Dahpne said, snuggling back into Fred and resting her head on his shoulder. To George, Fred never looked more at peace.

* * *

"You _what_?" George's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"I ditched her, last night," Fred whispered back, slumping against the counter in their kitchenette. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair flat and stringy. Hell had chewed him up and spat him out. Twice.

As fresh tears clung to Fred's eyelashes, George realized he couldn't remember the last time he saw his brother cry.

"But—why?"

"The war's inevitable."

"Fred-"

"No, listen. Her family, it's not like ours. They—they'll have to pick _his_ side. And if they don't, our side will never trust them. How could I do that to her? I love her. And I don't want her to have to choose between her family and me, ever, Georgie. It's better like this."

"If you're sure," was all George could say. But he didn't really sense certainty in his brother's face.

Only heartbreak.

* * *

Daphne was sitting at the bar in the Three Broomsticks when George walked in. He thanked Merlin she was alone, just a butterbeer in her hand.

"Hi," he said, slipping into the seat beside her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, if anyone asks, I'm visiting Ginny," George mumbled. "But really, I wanted to see you."

"Me?" She angled her body away from his, a stance that he quickly mimicked. It was better they didn't look like they were together. Ginny didn't say much, but George knew the Carrows had eyes and ears everywhere. Plus, a lot happened since George last saw Daphne—Dumbledore's death, for starters. The fall of the ministry. Ron on the lam.

Discretion was everything.

"What happened to your ear?"

George pulled his attention back to Daphne. Unconsciously, he touched the place where his ear used to be.

"Oh. That. Maybe not something to talk about here."

They paused as a group of students passed by, their heads hung low. Things felt different, George noted. Very different. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend for the students still brave enough to attend, but few talked louder than a whisper. Ginny was somewhere in that crowd, and as soon as he spotted her, he'd have to leave.

Discretion may have been everything, but time was precious.

"He misses you. So much, Daph. I can't even begin to describe the kind of panic he gets into thinking about you here at school."

"George-"

"No. I know this is hard to hear, but I don't know what else to do. He's not himself."

"No one is these days."

For a moment their eyes met.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?"

"Your sister hasn't said?"

George paused, considering how to say aloud all of Fred's fears. "She doesn't live in the same dorm as Death Eaters."

Daphne looked away, cringing. "Well. I'm sitting alone, aren't I?"

A flash of red caught George's eye. Ginny was there. She waved from across the room and he knew it was time.

"Talk to him. Write him. Tell him how stupid he is," George stood. He slipped a few knuts on the counter for her drink. "You once put this 'Almighty-Gryffindor' in his place. Now it's Fred's turn."

As he was swallowed by the crowd, George thought, just for a moment, he saw her nod.

* * *

"Thank you, Georgie."

Fred clutched the letter in his hand. It had arrived just as George Apparated home from Hogsmeade.

"Thank you."

* * *

"George!"

There was a crash above him, and George turned to block a jet of purple light. Then he turned back to see Daphne hurtling toward him.

"George, I can't find her!"

"Daph," he pulled her close, hugging her to his body. "What are you doing here? I thought Slytherin left?"

"I can't find her!" she was hysterical. "I left, but she wasn't there so I came back and I can't find her!"

"Who?"

"My sister!"

Then, without warning, it stopped. The battle, the rage, the nightmare. _He _spoke. He demanded Harry turn himself in. He gave them an hour.

George, who had held Daphne for the duration, gently took a step back and looked into her eyes.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms back around his neck. He didn't know what to say—he had barely begun to process that this battle was happening, but there he was, standing in Hogwarts' halls, fighting for his life. And Daphne was there now, and he would do anything to protect her, too.

"You too," he said, pulling away again. "Let's find your sister now, and-"

"Daphne!"

A whirl of black hair darted in between them and latched on to Daphne's side.

"Astoria! Where were you!?"

A shadow of a smile pulled at George's lips. That was easier than he thought it would be, but he took it as a small victory. They needed those today.

As he turned to give the sisters privacy, the smile still etched on his face, everything else shattered. In the distance, coming down the hall, was Percy and Oliver Wood. They were carrying a body. Red hair. George knew those shoes.

He didn't need to see more.

"Daphne," he turned back around. He hoped she couldn't hear the shakiness in his voice. Couldn't see the way he was suppressing the urge to vomit. He stepped closer, praying he blocked his body from view. "Can you Apparate?"

"What? Why?" she asked. Her sister, Astoria, looked at George, then behind him.

Daphne continued, "We can't Apparate out of Hogwarts. There're protections."

"I have a feeling they're not up at the moment, Daphy," Astoria said, grasping her sister's hand. "Come on, we need to go."

"Sure. Yeah, okay," Daphne looked to George again. "Stay safe?"

"Of—of course."

They faded away with a faint _pop_. He finally fell to his knees.

* * *

"I've had the best day of my life, so I brought dumplings!"

Daphne closed the flat door behind her with such a finality, George expected her to declare she found the love of her life.

Or, at least, the second.

But he shook off that old memory and instead took the proffered dumplings. Daphne, meanwhile, made herself comfortable on the couch.

"I got it. I got the job."

"You didn't," George gasped, his dumplings already forgotten.

"I _did._"

"I'm so proud of you!" He shouted, tackling her into a hug. Daphne giggled as he began a one-man parade around the flat in celebration. "You worked too bloody hard not to get it, Daph."

"It was the right circumstances. Ollivander's getting older, and war was not easy on his health," she started. "Not many people were thinking of taking up wandlore, either, so—Hey!"

The dumpling George had thrown hit her right between the eyes. "Don't you dare sell yourself short. You earned it, Daphy."

"I wasn't selling myself short."

"Oh, you were," he sat down in his chair. "Fred would be proud."

Mentioning his twin was never easy between them, but tonight, George thought she should hear it. Two years had passed. At first, all George wanted was to be alone. He would sleep most days and drink at night. If it hadn't been for Ron taking over, he would have lost the shop.

Then last year, George's therapist encouraged him to talk about his brother with the people who knew him best. He couldn't think of anyone better than Daphne and had invited her over for dinner. They had written letters, sure, but they hadn't seen each other since the battle. That's when Daphne learned what George did, giving her those few happy moments with her sister before the heartache.

Their first dinner was torturous. The next less so. And then less and less until they were having take-out to eat-in every Thursday.

"What about you? _You promised_," she said through a mouthful of lo mein.

"I—did. I asked her."

"_And_!?_"_

"And…" he teased.

It was her turn to throw something now. The egg noodle stuck to face with a _thwak_.

"She said yes, woman!"

Daphne squealed, "Oh, I hope you both have a good time. I really like Angelina. She's good for you."

George rolled his eyes. Had he not heard this same speech a million times before, he might have let it get his hopes up. Alas, Daphne had been singing the same tune for months.

"It's one date."

"It's the rest of your life."

"One. Date."

"Just you wait, Georgie," she kicked off her shoes and sank further into his couch. "Just. You. Wait."

* * *

"You have four brothers," Daphne said matter-of-factly, sipping lightly from her butterbeer. They were almost thirty, but she just couldn't seem to warm up to harder liquors. It made George smile.

"So?" he said.

"So? It should be one of them."

"Bill had Charlie. Charlie can have Percy. Percy, Ron, and Ron can have Harry," George said. It was simple, really.

"But-"

"Daph," he took her hand in his own. "When I think of that day, of what it will mean to me and the rest of my life, I imagine three people: Angelina, obviously. Me, naturally. And you."

Tears pooled in Daphne's beautiful eyes. The last time George stared into those emeralds in this very booth at the Leaky Cauldron, things played out quite differently.

"So what says you?" he continued. "Will you, a slimy Slytherin, help this _lowly_ Gryffindor?"

Wiping back a tear, she whispered, "I think I said 'Almighty-Gryffindor.' "

"You did," George smirked. "I just wanted you to admit it again."

She slapped playfully at his wrist.

"So?"

"_Yes_," she laughed. "Yes, of course, George. I would be honored to be your best man."


End file.
